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<title>Fighting for your life by Whatever11221 (Julian11221)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690710">Fighting for your life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julian11221/pseuds/Whatever11221'>Whatever11221 (Julian11221)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shia LaBeouf - Rob Cantor (Song), shia labeouf - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Gen, LGBTQ Character, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexy, Twinks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:28:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julian11221/pseuds/Whatever11221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The only thing we have to fear is Shia himself" -F.D.R.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fighting for your life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A pale boy with shaggy brown hair rides his bike down the winding trail. A rusted red mountain bike that hasn't been used in years. It squeaks with each thrust the boy exerts upon the pedals. The boy rides down the path towards the now setting sun, Lady Gaga's Born This Way is audibly blaring from his AirPods. The air, blowing through his sweat soaked hair, starts to feel colder as the sun departs further from the sky.</p><p>The boy gently presses the brake lever and slows to a stop. He puts one foot on the ground to hold the bike in an upward position and starts to search his backpack for the shirt he had previously taken off and stowed inside. He finds the pale blue shirt with an American Eagle logo printed on the front and pulls it over his head, accidentally plucking his left AirPod from his ear. It wasn't until he pulled the shirt down the rest of his scrawny, malnourished looking torso until he realized that his "queen" had stopped singing. </p><p>He let down the kickstand and threw his leg over the frame of his bike to stand beside it. He pulled his phone out of his bag and turned on the flashlight, as the sun had crept below the horizon enough to diminish the visibility under the sky's natural light. He got down on his already scraped knees -from his previous encounter- and began to search for his missing AirPod, cellular flashlight in hand.</p><p> "Coop?"</p><p>"When are you coming home?"</p><p>"It's getting pretty late... a TUESDAY night!"</p><p>Distracted by the three new messages on his phone, he stops fumbling around the dirt path and begins to respond to his mother.</p><p>"i'm 18 now mom, i'll be home by whenever"</p><p>"You have school tomorrow... just please come home safe. I love you!"</p><p>Cooper snickered, locked his phone, and continued looking for his misplaced AirPod. He finally stumbles upon it on the other side of the rear tire and begins to get back on his feet. Turning off the flashlight, he pops the Pod back into his ear, just as he started to hear a sound in the distance. He takes it back out of his ear and listens closely to the sound he heard, now growing louder and louder. He turns towards the direction the noise had been emanating from, down the path he had just came, and sees a dark figure walking towards him from a distance. No, it was sprinting in his direction. </p><p>The sound of the figure's bare feet slapping the ground grew louder and louder as the boy struggled to hop back onto his bike. The boy took off. His feet pounding on the pedals as fast as he could. The scraping of the kickstand against the ground, making the boy ride slower. The boy turns his head to see the figure, shrouded in night, now about 100 feet behind him. He was gaining on him. The boy just needed to go a little further, he could see the parking lot where his car was parked. To the boys luck, the kickstand broke off of the bike's frame and he could potentially pedal faster. The boy turned back and smirked at the figure who was slowing down now. Unfortunately for the boy, the figure had only slowed down enough to pick up the detached kickstand. The boy turned his head back towards the nearing parking lot, his smirk growing into a worried expression. </p><p>The figure was approaching closer and closer now, as if it had gained more speed than before. The boy knew that the figure was fueled with intent and rage that was directed to kill him. He pushed harder and harder on the pedals, wishing for the bike to go faster. Wishing would not get the boy anywhere because the figure was only a couple feet away from him now. The boy urged himself not to look behind him, for he could hear the heavy breathing behind him. The hot breath brushing across the nape of his neck. </p><p>The boy turned his head reluctantly and the face he saw shocked him to his core. The star of Even Stevens, a show he had watched reruns for late at night when he should've been asleep, was inches away from him. The stubbly faced smile, that seemed to stretch ear to ear, and the man was wielding the kickstand like a knife towards the boy. The boy turned back around to see that he was a couple hundred feet away from the parking lot. </p><p>The boy was jolted off of his bike, his skinny body was weightless to the former child star's grasp. The boy let out a yelp as he fell onto his back, half of his body on the path and the other laid on it's grassy shoulder. He looked up and pleaded for his life, his face streaked with tears. But this Hollywood superstar was not merciful. </p><p>With a devilish smile, the man jabbed the rusted edge of the kickstand into the boy's neck and slid it all the way across. Blood spraying onto the actor's face. He pulls out the stand and proceeds to slam it up and down into the boy's chest repeatedly. He laughs as the boy starts coughing up blood and waving his arms up at him as a form of defense. </p><p>The last thing the boy sees was the face of Shia LaBeouf covered in his blood.</p>
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